“You okay, baby?” Walker leaned over to ask her.
She smiled at him. “Yes, I’m fine. You love me and I love you, so I couldn’t be better.”
The announcement that she was marrying and leaving Westmoreland Country had everyone shocked. But all they had to do was look at her and Walker to see how happy they were together.
Thanks to Lucia and Chloe, Bailey would still work for Simply Irresistible, working remotely from Kodiak Island. She’d been doing it for a while now and so far things were working out fine.
The Outlaws, all six of them, had come to visit, and just like Bailey had known, everyone had gotten along beautifully. They were invited to the Denver Westmorelands’ annual foundation banquet and said they would return in December to attend. That way they would get to meet their Westmoreland cousins from Atlanta, Montana, North Carolina and Texas. Word was that Bart still hadn’t come around. According to Walker, Garth intended to find out why his father was being so difficult.
Since Gemma, Callum and their kids were in town, Bailey and Walker were staying at the bed-and-breakfast inn Jason’s wife, Bella, owned. It was perfect, and she and Walker had the entire place to themselves.
Bailey figured she would eventually get around to building her own place so she and Walker could have somewhere private whenever they came to visit, but she wasn’t in any hurry.
After clinking on his glass to get everyone’s attention, Dillon stood. “It’s been years since we’ve had everyone together on Thanksgiving, and I’m thankful that this year Gemma and Bane were able to come home to join us. And I’m grateful for all the additions to our family, especially one in particular,” he said, looking over at Walker and smiling.
“I think Mom, Dad, Uncle Thomas and Aunt Susan would be proud of what we’ve become and that we’re still a family.”
Bailey wiped a tear from her eye. Yes, they were still a family and always would be. She reached under the table for Walker’s hand. She had everything she could possibly want and more.
“You wanted to see me, Dil?” Bane asked, walking into Dillon’s home office. Out the window was a beautiful view of Gemma Lake.
Dillon glanced up as his brother entered. Bane appeared taller, looked harder, more mature than he’d seemed the last time he’d been home. “Yes, come on in, Bane.”
Dinner had ended a few hours ago and after a game of snow volleyball the ladies had gathered in the sitting room to watch a holiday movie with the kids, and the men had gathered upstairs for a card game. “I want to know how you’re doing,” Dillon said, studying his baby brother.
“Fine, although my last assignment took a toll on me. I lost a good friend.”
Dillon shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Me, too. Laramie Tucker was a good guy. The best. We went through the academy together.”
Dillon knew not to ask what happened. Bane had explained a while back that all his assignments were confidential. “Is that why you’re taking a military leave?”
Bane eased down in the chair across from Dillon’s desk. “No. It’s time I find Crystal. If nothing else, Tuck’s death taught me how fragile life is. You can be here today and gone tomorrow.”
Dillon came around and sat on the edge of his desk to face his brother. “Not sure if you knew it, but Carl Newsome passed away a few years ago.”
Bane shook his head. “No, I didn’t know.”
“So you haven’t seen Crystal since the Newsomes sent her away?”
“No. You were right. I didn’t have anything to offer her at the time. I was a hothead and Trouble was my middle name. She deserved better, and I was willing to make something of myself to give her better.”
Dillon nodded. “It’s been years, Bane. The last time I talked to Emily Newsome was when I heard Carl had died. I called to offer my condolences. I asked about Crystal and Emily said Crystal was doing fine. She was working on her master’s degree at Harvard with plans to get a doctorate.”
Bane didn’t say anything as he listened to what Dillon was saying. “That doesn’t surprise me. Crystal was always smart in school.”
Dillon stared at his brother, wondering how Bane had figured that out when most of the time he and Crystal were playing hooky. “I don’t want to upset you, Bane. But you don’t know what Crystal’s feelings are for you. The two of you were teens back then. First love doesn’t always mean last love. Although you might still love her, for all you know, she might have moved on. Have you ever considered the possibility that she might be involved with someone else?”
Bane leaned back in his chair. “I don’t believe that. Crystal and I had an understanding. We have an unbreakable bond.”
“But that was years ago. You just said you haven’t seen her since that day Carl sent her away. For all you know, she could be married by now.”
Bane shook his head. “Crystal wouldn’t marry anyone else.”
Dillon lifted a brow. “And how can you be so sure of that?”
Bane held his brother’s stare. “Because she’s already married, Dil. Crystal is married to me, and I think it’s time to go claim my wife.”
Don’t miss the final Westmoreland hero!
BANE
Available December 2015,
only from New York Times bestselling author Brenda Jackson and Harlequin Desire!
If you loved Bailey’s story, pick up the very first Westmoreland novels, now available in a convenient box set!
Volume One
Brenda Jackson’s THE WESTMORELANDS
Books One to Five
DELANEY’S DESERT SHEIKH
A LITTLE DARE
THORN’S CHALLENGE
STONE COLD SURRENDER
RIDING THE STORM
If you’re on Twitter, tell us what you think of Harlequin Desire! #harlequindesire
RECLAIMED BY THE RANCHER
Janice Maynard
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
One
Not much rattled Jeff Hartley. At twenty-nine, he owned and operated the family ranch where he had grown up during a near-idyllic childhood. His parents had taken early retirement back in the spring and had headed off to a condo on Galveston Bay, leaving their only son to carry on the tradition.
Jeff was a full member of the prestigious Texas Cattleman’s Club, a venerable establishment where the movers and shakers of Royal, Texas, met to shoot the breeze and oftentimes conduct business. Jeff prided himself on being mature, efficient, easygoing and practical.
But when he opened his door on a warm October afternoon and saw Lucy Peyton standing on his front porch, it felt as if a bull had kicked him in the chest. First there was the dearth of oxygen, a damned scary feeling. Then the pain set in. After that, he had the impulse to flee before the bull could take another shot.
He stared at his visitor, his gaze as level and dispassionate as he could make it. “I plan to vote Democrat this year. I don’t need any magazine subscriptions. And I already have a church home,” he said. “But thanks for stopping by.”
He almost had the door closed before she spoke. “Jeff. Please. I need to talk to you.”
Damn it. How could a woman say his name—one measly syllable—and make his insides go all wonky? Her voice was every bit the same as he remembered. Soft and husky...as if she were on the verge of laryngitis. Or perhaps about to offer some lucky man naughty, unspeakable pleasure in the bedroom.
The sound of eight words, no matter how urgently spoken, shouldn’t have made him weak in the knees.
Her looks hadn’t changed, either, though she was a bit thinner than he remembered. Her dark brown hair, all one length but parted on the side, brushed her shoulders. Hazel eyes still reminded him of an autumn pond filled with fallen leaves.
She was tall, at least five-eight...and though she was athletic and graceful, she had plenty of curves to add interest to the map. Some of those curves still kept him awake on dark, troubled nights.
“Unless you’re here to apologize,” he said, his words deliberately curt, “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”
When she shoved her shoulder against the door, he had to step back or risk hurting her. Even so, he planted himself in the doorway, drawing a metaphorical line in the sand.
Her eyes widened, even as they flashed with temper. “How dare you try to play the wronged party, you lying, cheating, sonofa—”
Either she ran out of adjectives, or she suddenly realized that insulting a man was no way to gain entry into his home.
He lifted an eyebrow. “You were saying?”
His mild tone seemed to enrage her further, though to her credit, she managed to swallow whatever additional words trembled on her tongue. Was it bad of him to remember that small pink tongue wetting his— Oh, hell. Now he was the one who pulled up short. Nothing stood to be gained by indulging in a sentimental stroll down memory lane.
No tongues. No nothing.
She licked her lips and took a deep, visible breath. “Samson Oil is trying to buy the Peyton ranch.”
Two
Lucy was diabetic; she’d been diagnosed as a twelve-year-old. If she didn’t take her insulin, she sometimes got the shakes. But nothing like this. Facing the man she had come to see made her tremble from head to toe. And she couldn’t seem to stop. No amount of medicine in the world was ever going to cure her fascination with the ornery, immoral, two-faced, spectacularly handsome Jeff Hartley.